


Initiated by Fire

by DragonForce



Category: 007 - Fandom
Genre: Other, firstfanfiction, pleaseenjoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:00:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21642577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonForce/pseuds/DragonForce
Summary: He knew he'd eventually take over Q-branch. He just never expected that day would come so soon.
Kudos: 6





	Initiated by Fire

All it took was a single fiery and explosive moment for Q to entirely rethink his career choices.

He was new, a "freshie" as some of the more seasoned agents had elected to call him. Though he had intelligence far superior to any average double-oh, he somehow still was required to fight his way up the food chain, meaning his was often looked down on by his peers for both his age and his appearance. Granted, a skinny, pale, undersized, disheveled, newly graduated student from the American's MIT program did not mix well with the other, more...graying...agents and techies. Still, he wasn't one who could be intimidated easily. And it seemed an almost...dare he say it...not horrible morning up until then. 

To be fair, he'd woken up almost an hour late, had to run all the way to the tube to catch a train that was running ten minutes behind, and on top of all of that, the shop that sold his favorite bags of Earl Gray had been closed due to the owner taking an emergency sick leave. So he'd had no tea, and, to add insult to injury, no time to go anywhere else before his shift at Q-branch began. Even on top of all of that, Q, to his surprise as much as anyone who knew him, was...content.

So, after five minutes of attempting to smooth the wrinkles and remove the clinging cat fur from his sweater, he'd stumbled, half-asleep, across the street toward the painful, eyeball-bleedingly white MI6 building. He sighed, adjusting his lenses and squinting against the early morning's light reflecting off of the Thames. He pushed his way among the oblivious city crowd, finding himself shoved, jostled, and in some cases, nearly knocked to the ground as he fought his way across the sidewalk.

By the time he'd managed to push his way through the ocean of misery, he was already fifteen minutes late. Tanner was waiting impatiently for him just inside the lobby. His arms were folded and he arched an eyebrow as the exhausted hacker staggered through the doors. 

"Kind of you to show up."

"I have a reasonable explanation," Q responded as the two men fell in step and started toward the elevators that would take them to the secret underground lab.

"Oh? Reasonable, is it?" Tanner chuckled as he punched the down button. "I'm sure Boothroyd will be pleased to hear that." The rest of the trip was made in silence. Tanner's phone buzzed and he glanced at it warily, as if expecting it to suddenly explode. "Darn," he hissed, closing his mobile and stuffing it back into his trench-coat with a grunt. "Well, it looks like this is where we part ways."

Q looked over at the older man's phone. "Emergency?" 

"Of a sort. M needs a bodyguard. Private meeting. I have to go. Are you okay to go down without me?" Even as he spoke, he was busy checking his weapon, loading and unloading his barrel and handling the rounds. 

Q couldn't keep the ghost of a smile from his face. "Thank you, Tanner. However, this is not my first day of school. Go on." He nodded toward the doors as he pressed a button and opened the elevator on the third floor. There were still four more floors to reach the lab, but he could take the stairs. After saying farewell, Q headed down the hall. He was aware of several strange looks from the other agents. However, he didn't let them bother him. He took great pride in being different. He couldn't care less what the others thought of him.

A woman passed him in the hall. Q kept his head down as he shuffled past her. He heard her pause, turn, and stare. The uncomfortable feeling this action gave him only egged his legs on. He didn't want anyone to notice him. He wanted to be left alone, and he certainly did not want to engage in meaningless chatter. He had more important things to deal with. Such as learning how to run an entire branch of a spy agency. It was no secret that Boothroyd, the most famous Quartermaster, was aging. No one expected him to be around forever. Q knew he was being prepped to take the older man's place when the time came. It was a great honor, and a great responsibility, one that weighed heavily on the young man's shoulders. But, as he continued to tell himself day after day. Boothroyd still had time left. Besides, Q wasn't anywhere near ready to take over all of Q-branch. Maybe in five years. Or twenty. 

"Hey!" High-heels clacked against the polished tile behind him and he slowed, confused, turning around with a frown to see the woman hurrying after him. He sighed and gave a small eye-roll, irritated to have been stopped. "Hey, you're the new Quartermaster-In-Training, right?" She caught up to him and stuck her hand out firmly. 

"Yes," Q said slowly, drawing out his words as he shook her hand. He chuckled and gave her a nervous smile as he struggled to remember how to properly introduce himself without the veil of a computer screen where his true identity never had to be known. "Yes, that's me. I'm--"

"And...I'm going to stop you right there," the woman said, holding up a hand. "Rule one of being a spy; no real names. Only the letter that they've been assigned to. And, on that note, hi, I'm Moneypenny, M's assistant."

"Moneypenny?" Q repeated. "But didn't you just say--"

"I'm the exception to the rule," she replied. "I'm not a field agent. Well, not anymore." She shrugged it off with a friendly roll of her eyes. 

"Really?" Q couldn't believe he was actually still there, having a real conversation with another human being. "Why? What happened?" He realized he might have been too pushy, as the woman seemed to flinch at his question.

Moneypenny hesitated. "Ah...let's...just...say...I may have... accidentally killed...an agent..."

"Wait...WHAT?"

She coughed nervously. "Never mind. It was a long time ago."

No. Q certainly couldn't just never mind. Did she just confess to killing an agent? How was she still aloud to be an agent, let alone carry a gun? Did Director M know? Was Moneypenny about to kill him too because he knew? Admittedly, that last one might have just come from his many years of not trusting and not liking people. But, still, he couldn't stop his body from taking a nervous step backward even before Moneypenny could open her mouth to defend herself. 

She never got the chance.

Q's sensitive ears heard what was coming moments before it did. Without warning, he threw himself at Moneypenny, knocking her to the ground as he threw his entire body over her, though she was much taller and much differently build than him. She didn't even have time to cry out in alarm. Q threw his arms over his ears and bowed his head, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

The explosion rocked the entire building. Lights flickered and the ground underneath them quaked. Debris from a higher up floor began to crash down all around them. And, this time, it was Moneypenny who reacted first, pushing his petrified form off of her and struggling to her feet. "Come on!" she yelled at him as he lay there in an unmoving ball. "Get up! Run!" When he hadn't responded, she'd simply went over and lifted him up as though he were weightless.

Minutes later, he could remember sitting at the back of an ambulance, watching silently as the body bags were wheeled out of the demolished building one at a time. Moneypenny, who thankfully wasn't hurt, sat on a bench a few yards away, talking to a police man about what had happened. She kept shooting Q looks over the man's head, as though simultaneously asking if he was okay and how he'd known about the bomb. He just shook his head wearily. 

"R?"

He glanced up at the use of his code letter, gaping at the woman standing before him. She looked like the spitting image of..no...it couldn't be...could it? He couldn't speak. All he could do was nod slowly.

"My name, as you probably know, is M. That bomb, the one you predicted, it was set for me. Now, I have one question for you and I'd like you to answer it honestly. And don't try to lie to me. I always know when someone's lying. Do you understand?"

Q nodded again.

"How did you know about the bomb?"

Oh. So that was it. M thought...she thought he had something to do with it! But...how could he explain it? He didn't want to go into his own past to answer her question. He hadn't done anything. What could he say that wouldn't make her suspicious? "I...don't know M-ma'am," he answered truthfully. "I just did."

M frowned and, for a long moment, she said nothing. Neither did Q, though he was already pretty sure he was about to be arrested as a terrorist... "Very well," she finally spoke, much to Q's surprise. There was no anger in her voice. Just...pitying. "The ones behind this horrendous act must be brought to justice. Being of that manner, I am assigning you to 007. He will be taking the lead on this mission."

"A-assigning?" he finally managed to stammer. "B-but, M! Only Quartermasters get assigned to agents! I'm...I'm still an intern!"

"But, yet, Boothroyd must have taught you something," M interjected. "He reported very highly of you. Said you'd be ready when your time came. And that time is now." She took a deep breath. "Q."

Q's head shot up and his jaw dropped. "Wait...no...that, that can't be right!" he protested. "I'm not the Quartermaster! Boothroyd is! If you want a mission done, you should talk to him and--"

"Q, Boothroyd is dead."

Q's words died in his throat. No. He couldn't believe it. No. It couldn't be true. No! He wasn't ready! No! It had to be some kind of cruel joke! He felt the unfamiliar sensation of burning tears in his eyes and he was just barely able to restrain them as he stared at M in horror. There was no sign of a bad prank in her eyes. There was genuine sadness, grief, and pity there.

He gulped, realizing exactly what that meant. "Where am I to meet this 007?" he questioned, trying to stop the shaking of his voice. "And how will I know when I see him?"

M didn't react with facial expressions. She continued to stare at him, seeming to drill a hole through his very being. "The art museum," she decided. "Look for the painting with the boat and the old man with thinning hair and a far too expensive suit."

"And you're sure he'll want my help? After all, wasn't Q--Boothroyd--like his best friend?"

"Don't worry about it. I think the two of you will get along just fine."


End file.
